


Origins

by imdex



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anger, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Fear, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Memories, Past Child Abuse, Repressed Memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6658018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdex/pseuds/imdex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened in their lives to make them who they are today?<br/>(Rulindil and Imani background. WARNING: DARK THEMES AHEAD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I couldn't...(Rulindil)

**Author's Note:**

> Since this ship has sailed with no intent of hitting shore or port anytime soon I decided to play into the memories of a young Thalmor boy and a sweet timid Breton girl. The ones with the most baggage are normally the sweetest, no matter how messed up they may or may not keep themselves, so here's my take on what I feel Rulindil went through as a Dominion raised Altmer, and what my OC Imani went through as an Imperial raised Forsworn.

Vaarilion didn't move. He lingered in the dim light, towering above the boy, and simply let his authority and stature do the work words alone couldn't. His sons lips tightened only slightly and kept his eyes trained firmly ahead on something past him. Finally the mer moved. Jet black robes giving him a more beastly appearance as he circled the unmoving child like a wolf sizing up its target.  
"Tell me that again." the boys shoulders stiffened, a few strands of his hair falling slightly out of place, before he silently repeated what he'd said that had made the older mer silently seethe in anger in that small soft voice he had.  
"I didn't take part in the lesson, sir."  
"And you didn't because." the boy knew there was no getting out of this. No escape from the painful punishment that was about to fall upon him. Taking a silent and steadying breath he continued with a voice that held the faintest waver.  
"I couldn't do it."  
A large hand curled around his small shoulder and despite his training and knowing that showing weakness wouldn't benefit but only bring more pain the boy shook as those cold fingers pressed into his skin to leave angry red and purple marks. Vaarilion's lips pulled into a slight snarl, burning amber eyes molten in outrage, disgusted that something he had produced could be so weak. 

His son, hardly into his seventh season if one went by human terms, grimaced and gasped as Vaarilions magic sprung from his palm. The pathetic runt fell to his hands and knees, his father not letting up until the boy finally cries out, and only after calling back his magic does Vaarilion act. A sharp kick sends the child onto his back and Vaarilion doesn't bother to put his mask back on as he glares in disgust at the pathetic boy looking up at him. He kneels and grips the fabric at his sons fragile neck, thinking for half a second about how simple it'd be to snap that scrawny little neck and wipe his name clean from the smears of weakness his son had given it, but Vaarilion pulled himself back into his revere of self control.  


This boy was exactly what he'd selected his wife for, the features rare and deathly fearful once matured, once sculpted and forged in the glorious teachings of the Dominion, and finally he addressed him with a sneer in his voice.

"You will take part in every lesson, test, and experiment set before you from today on. Your weakness is unforgivable, boy, hear me well and believe me when I say this; if you think it hard to watch the interrogation of a human then you have no idea how hard it will be when you are instead in their place." The boy swallowed but remained silent as Vaarilion continued "If you refuse to partake, if you falter in your vile weakness again, I will show you first hand how the Dominion accommodates humans. Understood." His child nodded.  
"Good. You are dismissed." He rose and turned his back to gaze out of the widow as his son stumbled to his shaking feet. He saw the faint reflection of his son bow in fearful respect, a whispered "thank you, sir." meeting his ears before the boy disappeared. Vaarilion sighed and glared out at the darkening sky. Enwe, the timid overly caring wench she was, would more than likely attempt to console and comfort her son. Vaarilion hadn't wanted Enwe, she was lower in class than he, but he took her for specific abnormalities that had appeared in her lines, the same ones that at one point had crossed his own. Two tries, two offspring that looked no different but no less impressive than other mer, came before him. 

Vaarilion slowly stalked out of the room and down the lit hallway stopping only for a brief moment outside his sons open door. The boy was seated at his small desk and in deep concentration over a destruction tome before he realized he was being watched. Somewhere in the back of his mind the older mer found a sense of pride, off place with the current situations that surrounded his timid son, but he knew with some relief that no matter what he would succeed in grooming him into the perfect part of the Dominion. Black eyes regarded his father with tense curiosity, long mohawk tasseled and lightly dampened with sweat from the meeting with his sire, and quickly turned his attention back to his book. 

Vaarilion moved on. Rulindil would be the fearful, monstrous agent his father and the dominion could only dream of, and if he had to break the boy down and rewrite his mental code then so be it.


	2. Curiosity(Imani)

Adsila had taken great care to shelter her daughter from her roots until the girl was old enough to understand who her mother was and where she'd come from. She tried to shelter her from her estranged ex-husband whose interest laid more within the belly of a mead bottle and his own mind made troubles. Adsila really took extra precautions to keep her daughter safely tucked away from the more frequently growing numbers of tall, golden armed Altmer, that wolfishly roamed the streets and boundary lines. 

But Imani wasn't a child that listened well once her friendly curiosity overtook her. 

Adsila had found her 4 year old daughter by the side of one of those mer one day, small timid voice asking him curiously innocent questions with that sweet little smile on her face, and paled. The Breton had made her way over to her, a nervous smile on her face as the Altmer glanced down at the newest audience, and stammered out an apology as she reached for her grinning brown headed daughter. The mer looked young and the slightest bit put off by the chipper child so daringly moving into his personal space but thankfully hadn't made a move to harm the girl. Instead he had calmly answered the child, abiet crisply, and Adsila noted at one point in her haste to reclaim her daughter the slightest upturn of the mers lips as her daughter asked why there was a chicken on his helmet. 

"Don't wander away from me." she had hissed against the girls ear before addressing the stoic faced Altmer "I'm sorry. She lets her curiosity claim the best of her sometimes. I hope you've not been offended." Curiously dark amber eyes slowly examined the duo with a closed off mask of supposed boredom before he finally responded.  
"No offense taken, Breton, but be sure to keep a more watchful eye on your daughter. There are others that would make haste to take her away…for good." Adsila's brown eyes narrowed and she shuddered at both the fact that the Thalmor acted genuinely concerned for her daughters safety and for the fact that he truly saw himself as some golden wrapped savior. As she turned and walked away from over her shoulder the girl smiled sweetly at the mer and waved her small hand at him as her mother carried her back into the market center. Faervel glanced around quickly before he awkwardly waved back at the little girl. 

"Imani, what have I told you about wandering off?"  
"Mama, why are they bad guys?" Adsila sighed as her daughter deflected her obvious worry.  
"I don't know, sweetheart, why they do what they do but you mustn't speak with them unless they speak to you. Even then you must choose your words carefully. Understand? They aren't above taking children away." Imani's wide hazel eyes looked up at her mother in curiosity.  
"But he was nice to me, mama." She looked down at her and tightened her lips."Imani, just…stay by my side ok? Yes, he was nice but not everyone of them will be." 

Imani looked back over her shoulder as they walked past a shadowed Justiciar, yellow eyes lingering on the duo, before realizing the child was staring. The little Breton smiled, expecting the same kindness as the golden elf, but instead the older mer glared back at her in distaste making her flinch in her mothers arms and bury her head a bit deeper into her soft ebony hair as the mer turned and moved on. 

Imani didn't know why those elfs had to be scary, she didn't understand in her young age the intense and deeply rooted hatred that had been planted forcefully into the hearts of the Thalmor, she only knew what her mother had said and the stories from other townspeople. She dared to peek up at the back of the robed mer and sighed. That one, the gold one, she'd ask him why they were so mean.


	3. Deserved(Imani)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we meet Faervel, my High Elf Dragonborn in another universe, and big brother to Rulindil.  
> These Thalmor man, they make me sad.  
> (*cough*also the Justiciar who dares utter the word craggy may or may not be*cough*related to the superiorly bred Justiciar of Markarth*cough*)

Though she was adventurous sometimes for the most part Imani held a sense of joy for obeying her mother. Her little heart pounded hard in her chest, so loudly she could swear her sleeping mom could hear it, but with a steady breath the child slowly slid the lock open and stepped out into the crisp night. She shivered and pulled her arms tighter around her little torso, her pale nightgown doing nothing to fight away the chilling touch of the night air. 

Oh her mama would be so scared if she found out she'd wandered out in the middle of the night! Imani had to move fast and with a breathy gasp as her bared feet met damp grass she bolted off towards the empty town center. 

"Bosmer, what was the deal with that Breton girl today?" Faervel grit his teeth and glared over at the mocking face of his friend.  
"Must you continue to call me that, Orthlion…it's getting rather stale."  
"Perhaps your commoner mother should have named you something more fitting then." Dark amber eyes regarded Orthlion with distaste and with a huff the mer excused himself from the tense inn. 

Faervel, second child of Vaarilion, had been given his…less than superior name by his mother. Enwe held a deep fascination with the Bosmer culture and had she been able would have made the voyage to Valenwood. But she never had the chance, not in her short life helplessly caged in her home, and the only time she had taken her three children and had attempted to flee in the cloak of night to the mainland…  
He frowned as the ugly memory popped up and as he walked into the damp and cool night he felt a sense of peace as the cool air kissed overly heated skin. He glanced around and thankfully found the streets empty. 

But then a soft pitter patter caught his attention and years of training and his own curiosity caused the mer to hone in on the sound and figure out what was making it. He had barely walked around the closest corner and started in surprise. He hung on his tiptoes, digging the appendages into the stone street through his boots, as his arms flailed pitifully to keep him upright. She looked back up at him in equal surprise, eyes wide and painfully innocent as she stood frozen on the spot, before her little face lit in a tired but happy smile. "I found you!" The mer stumbled backwards and blinked down at her.  
"You…what are you doing out here, child? Where is your mother?" Her smile dropped as he reminded her that she had to hurry lest her mama woke and found her gone. She turned and pointed behind her.  
"She's asleep. She doesn’t know I'm here." Faervel looked over the girl and his lips tightened as she shook, the hem of her dress wet, little arms covered in goose flesh. 

"You need to go home. It's much too cold out here, you'll catch a cold, not to mention your mother will be sick herself with worry." Her lip pooched out just enough and the Altmer knew he was walking a feather fine line now. Swallowing thickly he slowly knelt before her and reached, timidly, to put his large hand on her shoulder. "I'll walk you home. If you'd like…" A shy smile spread across her face and she looked away, squirming on the spot, and nodded her head. Knowing better but ignoring it, damn his mother's consideration to Oblivion for all the trouble it caused him and his siblings, he gently coaxed her to him and picked her little body up. He held her awkwardly against his armor, the feeling of holding a small child foreign and distant, but as he started walking fonder memories slowly crept into his mind. 

He held her tighter and smiled slightly when her little arms came to wrap around his neck. He used to carry Rulindil this way. Faervel never realized how comforting something as simple as carrying a babe could be and some part of him was grateful for this turn of events.  
"Child, why were you looking for me?" She licked her lips and moved her face up to stare at his profile, a small 'umm' letting him know that, like earlier that day, she was about to unload whatever her tiny mind had saved up.  
"Um…I wanted to know…why you…" she trailed off as she seemed to think her words over before she tried again.  
"Why do you guys have to be so…" his brow arched and his nose crinkled slightly. Ah, now he recalled the more annoying part of the fuzzy memory. Divines above when Rulindil had started to nervously speak he could sure drag it out and this Breton was no exception.  
"Have to be so?"  
Her small, cold little hand, slid beneath his helmet on his opposite cheek and Faervel froze on the spot. He allowed her to turn his head and could see clearly the nervousness in her hazel eyes.  
"Why do you hate people?" 

He blinked. That question was so deep, so loaded, so…convicting coming from the little human girl that Faervel forgot for a moment how to think. How could he explain to her that her kind was less than ideal and that Altmer were the true and rightful race to hold any power and authority over Nirn? He swallowed, vaguely aware of her little fingers gently tracing the edge of his helmet, before a gloved hand struck like a viper and held her tiny wrist in a tense hold. 

Imani reeled back, Faervel instinctively following her movement with a solid hand between her tiny shoulders as she cried out. Tensely holding her put the mer quickly whipped his head back to meet the poisonously bitter yellow eyes of his superior. "Put it down." Faervel's throat was tight with unbelievable anxiety but he stonily did as he was commanded and slowly eased himself back down to release the scared child who immediately clung to his leg as she pressed herself behind him. 

"Listen closely, human, I will not repeat myself." His superior gave Faervel a look that promised punishment for what he'd done before he glared down at the silently crying Breton. "Your kind is a tarnish on this world. A barbaric hoard of worthlessness that has no more right to life nor power than a rat." Imani remembered this elf, he was the one that had looked so meanly at her in the streets when she'd tried to be nice, and as she clung tighter to the leg of the friendly elf the black one reached around and grabbed her shoulder. 

A shrill cry rattled her throat as he tore her away from the comforting gold and forced her to look into scary, glowing, yellow pits. "You have no place here on this world, human, and you only will if we deem you worthy enough to live. Now get out of here and crawl back into the craggy shack from which you came." he shoved her forward, her palms and knees scraping painfully against the stone, and Faervel could only watch. Like a coward. Like a weak pathetic mer, too kind for his own good, just like his damned mother. 

She picked herself up and ran as hard as she could to the end of the last building and smashed herself against the wall to hide. She felt dizzy, she felt scared, and she desperately wanted the nice elf to help her back home. A metallic slap echoed off the stone street and Imani felt her breath falter in her chest. Timidly she dared to peek around the corner and another wave of tears rolled down her red little cheeks as rivets of red dripped from the friendly elf's face. 

Faervel cradled his bleeding cheek tenderly, the robed Justiciar leader dissipating back into the shadows like some wrait, leaving the mer to stare blankly at the ground. Leaving him to fight a terrifying mental battle. Slowly turned to follow after the Justiciar but sharply turned his attention back towards the end of the street. She looked at him pitifully, tears running down her face to stain dirty rosy cheeks, and Faervel knew she was waiting for him. But he had sunk to a new low and would carry new scars to show it and a spark of boiling hatred ignited deep in his soul for the girl, for his vile weakness bred into him from his mother, and for the embarrassment of it all. 

"You want to know why we hate you?" his question was hardly picked up by his own ears and her face fell as Faervel turned his back on her and stalked away, vowing then and there to never fall from his prestigious pedestal again, as he hissed out his answer.  
"Because you deserve it."


End file.
